Reality
by Amazonian21
Summary: Sarah confronts the Goblin King in her dream and finds a place for peace. COMPLETE.


I put this together when things weren't making sense the way I wanted them to. It comes from a conversation I had with my good friend Em about the frustrations of a life rich in fantasy. Hope you enjoy.

Boogity.

Reality

Sarah was dreaming, large and magnificent.

That in itself was enough to surprise her. She never dreamt in color any more.

She found herself in a familiar throne room, in the Castle Beyond the Goblin City. She was dressed in a black cloak that hid her form and most of her face. It was dull, devoid of color. Perfect.

She turned towards the man who sat reclining in a window sill, watching her. The feeling of his eyes upon her was a familiar thing. She'd felt it countless times over the years, tingling and persistent, though she hadn't acknowledged it even to herself in a long time.

She paused for a moment and wondered at the calm sensation she felt in the pit of her stomach. She was actually glad to see him.

"Jareth," she said slowly, surprised that one word could mean so much, "I've wanted to talk to you."

"I know," he said simply, and gracefully lifted both legs up to the sill so that his whole body was in shadow. She couldn't see anything of his face, and couldn't read his body language. He wasn't going to make this easy for her.

"Do begin," he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. She could see one hand gesturing towards her impersonally.

"Not like this," she said, and stepped forward boldly. She walked until she, too, was in shadow, sharing his darkness. Its coolness enveloped her and strengthened her resolve. She could see why he had chosen this part. Everything was easier when the shadows kept emotions private.

She reached a tentative hand out to touch his arm. It was a gesture with calculated risks. Invasion of personal space is a dangerous thing, especially when concerning an old enemy. When Sarah's hand met with Jareth's cool, unmoving skin she was reassured when he didn't jerk away. It gave her silent permission to proceed and brought the conversation to a more intimate and important level. He would be listening closely to what she said.

"I need you," she began. "I need the answers you can provide, and I won't waste my time with verbal battle tactics and vagueness. Can we do this?" She gestured to the air, as if it held a picture of what she wanted.

"Can we talk: without hurt, without challenge, without useless rivalry?" Her words were pleading, and for once she didn't care. She didn't try to hide it, didn't try to maintain a brave front. She, tonight, would not lie. Not even to make herself feel better.

Jareth stood slowly and moved to stand in front of her. His eyes were hidden, unreadable in the dim light, but Sarah could see him nod. He waved his hand and produced a couch for them to sit on.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," he said distantly. There was no warmth in his words, no pliability and no human mercy. He wasn't interested in making her comfortable. He was what he always was. He was complete mystery. He was the sum of her questions, the sage with all the answers.

"I said I need you, and it's true," she continued, drawing a deep breath and nestling deep into the couch, prepared for a long speech. Things had been unbearable for too long, all her turmoil had built too deep. Tonight she'd air it all, tonight she'd speak her piece, and tonight she'd find her hope.

"I went into your Labyrinth a selfish, simple child when I was just fifteen. Back then the world was always hazy with unreality. Back then dragons lived in the wood behind my house. Back then my step mother was a wicked tyrant and I was a victim. I was a great actress and the world was my stage. I was a queen, a princess, a knight and an artisan all rolled up in a naïve package. I was invincible. I was untouchable. I was a hero.

"Then I made a wish. I faced an evil monarch. I developed character and I learned to love someone aside from myself. I learned that fantasy isn't all there is to life. I learned that the real world is a lot bigger than I'd ever known- bigger than myself, bigger than make believe. And I grew up.

"Before my newly opened eyes my step mother became an unsure and insecure woman trying her best to raise someone else's difficult daughter. I woke up one morning and the dragons all were slain. My curtain never rose upon my great stage. I was no longer a queen or princess or knight, just a girl with some hero still in her, some courage and strength, but much less fantasy. I gained wisdom, and that wisdom chased away the blur from the edge of my reality. That wisdom whispered in my ear that I wasn't untouchable after all.

"That wisdom came laced with cruelty. Someone told me that one day I would die, and I, in my new and double edged wisdom, believed them.

"So now life passes. I'm happy. I'm sad. I laugh, I play, I learn and I love. There are always good things to be found in the little things in life. The rain against the window is magic. All of nature is intricate and so fantastic that it could swallow me up and I wouldn't mind.

"Humankind has its own treasures, if you slow down and know where to look. The sight of children playing is amazing. If you listen closely, listen without bias or theory or prejudice, you can watch as they build their worlds and establish their ruthless governments. Children have powerful dreams which I love, but they also have castles in the air that I can't touch. But I still remember them. I still know what it's like to be little and full of fierce love for life and a wonderful curiosity for the world.

"So you see- I haven't lost all contact with the magic. I know it's still out there. I can see it everywhere. I can feel it, taste it, sense it and love it. I can sometimes get it to acknowledge me back, make my heart pound in my breast at the sheer beauty of everything. I believe in fairies and goblins and giants. I believe in dragons and elves. I believe in Kings and fair maidens.

"But no matter how I reach, no matter how much I live in my brain and let my heart have the freedom to imagine, the magic never fully touches me back. I hold out my hand for something real to grab but nothing's there to meet my fingers.

"At the end of the day, when I'm alone in my bed and all's silent, when the trees and the rain are too far away to comfort me, I have nothing. I only have my sad and tired brain, my lies and little imaginings. There's nothing to hold on to. There's nothing to this world of yours that I can have for keeps.

"And in the dark I rage. I scream and I flail because I can't live my dreams. Because in the dark they might not exist after all."

Sarah said the last words in a slow breath, long and leaking like a punctured tire. It left her deflated and flat, supporting her weary head on the magic sofa.

For a moment everything was silent. The night itself held its breath and waited.

Jareth leaned forward and cupped her face in his hands.

"Maybe it's just another form of faith," he said, running his finger along her jaw.

"Faith?" she bit out, shaking her head bitterly. "Yes, it's always about faith. Faith in the higher power. Faith in a greater good. Faith in things bigger and better than yourself." Sarah sighed and leant into his touch. She closed her eyes and composed herself before continuing.

"I have faith. I live and breathe faith." Her composure slipped again in spite of herself and soon she was saying the word so bitterly that it lost meaning. "I am so full of _faith_ that I ooze _faith_. Faith is not in short supply here." She pounded her fists into the couch and pulled away from Jareth's touch, reclining against the far side.

"But faith in my fantasy doesn't yield me any rewards," she said sadly. "This faith is empty because there's nothing outside of me to catch me when I'm weak. There's no support to strengthen my spine. There's no real power here aside from what I can produce on my lonely own." She shook her head again and pushed a hair out of her eyes. Jareth watched her motions and then reached up to complete them when she missed a piece. His fingers felt cool against her flushed cheeks.

"I was literally right when I said that you have no power over me," she said to his continued silence. "You don't. You do not have the power to condemn me, but in the same manner, you have no power to save me. You're no God to console me in my trials. You're no savior to forgive me when I falter. You're no priest to offer words of solace when I doubt. You're a product of my own making." Here she paused and grabbed his hand, holding it as if deciding whether to pull it closer or fling it away.

She opted to simply bring in down between them, neutral ground. She then continued in a whisper. "At the end of the day you're as empty as I am."

Jareth looked at her, stricken. She was losing her claim to the world of the invisible. She was attacking and tearing herself in two. She was trying to kill off everything inside that wasn't obtainable in the real world. She was cutting out pieces of her own soul.

"Sarah," he whispered, saddened by the loss of her innocence. But it had to be done all those years ago; it always had to be done. Everything he'd done had been for her. It was right, but he still regretted it. "I did this to you," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Sarah broke down and sobbed gently, putting one tired hand to her eyes. She hadn't even known how much she'd wanted to hear those words from somebody. It almost made things better.

His strong arms encircled her and held her close. She leant into his embrace and said, "Your Labyrinth taught me things I needed to learn. There was nothing wrong with that. You did nothing wrong. It's life. It's life that wears us down." She wasn't sure who she was trying to reassure.

"All the stories I've read, all the movies I've seen, all the adventures- they build you up for the terrible let down. They show you how fantastic and exciting life can be. They show you true love and magic. They show you fast moments, huge disasters and great triumphs." Her hands waved in the air, drawing battle scenes in the sky. She suddenly brought them back down to the lower world and ticked off sentences on her fingers.

"But," she said emphatically, "they never show you that every hero spends ninety-nine percent of their lives in a cubicle earning rent money. They never show you that lovers wake up to find that the other has love handles and halitosis, or weird back pimples. They never show that after we fight off the aliens, after we save the day, there's still years of boring reconstruction left to do. Even worse, they never prepare you for the endless string of moments in which absolutely nothing happens. When there's no magic tingle in the air, when the only stirring of danger you feel is wishful thinking."

She wiped her face free from the tears and crassly used her sleeve to swipe at her dripping nose. She didn't care.

"So reality becomes too cruel," she explained. "It dulls you and soon you use all your allotted fighting moments just struggling to remember the wonder you felt as a child. Just trying to find beauty in the mundane, because there's nothing spectacular to help you." She finished her tirade and put her face in her hands, silently thinking over all she'd said.

After a moment Jareth asked, "What is it that you expect me to do for you, Sarah?" He had begun to stroke her head softly to ease her crying and now still had one hand resting on her head. "I cannot live these moments of reality for you. They're a part of your life. We all have them, even creatures of magic. I cannot make your life one of endless adventure." He paused and considered for a moment. "You wouldn't like it even if I did," he concluded dryly. "Excitement would become as common place as all the other minutes you described. It would be empty, too.

"No, Sarah," he concluded, raising her face to gaze up into his eyes, "I cannot give life to all the wonderful and exciting things that you create in your mind. They weren't meant to see the light of day. If it were what the nature intended, they'd already exist." He smoothed her cheeks and cupped her chin as he regarded her.

"Your dreams are an important factor in your world," he continued. "Their very unreality is what makes them balance the tangible things of the world you live in. Your tables and chairs and dishes are real. Your bills are real. Your pain is real. You have enough reality. Your dreams must not be real so that you can exist as a complete, rounded person.

"You have to learn to live with the contrast," he said, standing and pulling her up to stand with him. "That's what makes up all of life. The dullness to make things exciting. The mundane to make things magical. It's a balance that you'll discover on your own. It's a trial of fire in the worst sense- there's nothing physical you can name as an enemy. There's nothing you can vanquish. It's a struggle with your own soul that you'll have to fight, and I can't do it for you."

"No," said Sarah, agreeing softy as she looked back at him. She was beginning to understand. "You can't do it for me," she repeated. "But there is one thing you can do."

"Oh?" said the Goblin King, arching his eyebrows in wonder.

"Yes," said Sarah, taking both his arms and wrapping them around herself. "You can dance with me. Spin me until I'm so dizzy that things begin to make sense."

"That I will do, my Sarah," Jareth replied, and danced with her into the night.

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Thanks to my E.S.T.E.E.M. colleagues, and thanks in advance to those who review. If you read it, just type a little note that says so. You don't have to sign in. (Oh crap, I think I actually begged for reviews. Allow me to run and hide in shame, burying my head in the sand somewhere.)


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